


The Once Upon a Time Affair: Motu

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Legends, References to Polynesian Religion & Lore, Sharks, Spies & Secret Agents, Volcanoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon and Illya venture to an island in the South Pacific for some reconnoitering.





	The Once Upon a Time Affair: Motu

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Once Upon a Time Challenge on Live Journal
> 
> the prompt: (each story must begin with the same prompt)
> 
> In his job, {Napoleon/Illya} had seen the worst that humanity had to offer, and yet, even he was appalled at what his and {Napoleon/Illya}’s current assignment had led them to.

 

In his job, Illya Kuryakin had seen the worst that humanity had to offer, and yet, even he was appalled at what his and Napoleon’s current assignment had led them to.

There was no sound of a conch shell being blown to announce their arrival, as was the custom.. No dugouts  filled with welcoming inhabitants rowed to escort them as they landed on a small island in the South Pacific, a place that should have been a kind of utopia, but it was far from that now.

It was a bright sunny day with a clear sky. The palm trees swayed in a gentle breeze; the sand, a light coral color looked very inviting along with the gentle surf as the two the two agents stepped foot on a lonely beach.

 

They were dressed in light khaki clothing, Napoleon looking impeccable as always, not a crease to be seen on his trousers or shirt; there was as always the added touch of a white silk neckerchief around his throat.

Illya was a bit more casual, with his khaki pants and shirt not quite matching in color. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a dark green tee-shirt beneath it.

Where they were had once been the thriving community of _Ainalani,_ which meant ‘heavenly land,’ now there appeared to be nothing but a place poverty and ruin. It should have been a thriving paradise isolated from most of the outside world but it was clearly not.

Solo and Kuryakin walked through the village located along the edge of the strand. One by one they encountered the locals; they appeared lethargic, malnourished and there was a definite look of fear in their eyes.

Children being held in their mother’s arms were wide eyed and gaunt; there was barely a whimper coming from them as they seemed too weak to cry.

Oddly the people reacted more intensely to Illya’s presence, perhaps because of his fair skin and blond hair. The UNCLE agents heard the word _Pasikole_ whispered but were too focused on the mission at hand to ask what it meant.

 _“What has happened here mother?_ ” Illya spoke French to an old white-haired woman.

Her thin frame was wrapped in a bright orange and white flowered sarong, though upon closer inspection the garment was quite dirty. It was unusual for a people known for their cleanliness and pride in their appearance.

Most of the villagers spoke French thanks to the establishment of a Marist mission many years ago, though many still believed in the deities of the Polynesians.

Given Kuryakin’s Samoan language skills were minimal, he thought it best to keep to French as it was well established.

Napoleon looked about while his partner conversed with the woman when he suddenly realized there were no men, or any males within sight for that matter.

The woman pointed in the direction of the mountain as she spoke; it was the island’s most prominent feature as it was a dormant volcano that originally formed the the island of _Motu,_ which meant ‘little island.’

“They are there. _La’akea_ has them. Though her sacredness has been ... _solia,”_ the woman said.

 _“Who is La’akea and what is the meaning of solia?_ I do not know that word mother,” Illya said.

“ _La’akea_ is the goddess of the volcano and her sacredness has been _violé,”_ she translated the word into French.

“Violated?” Illya asked.

_“Oui.”_

Once a month a physician would visit the island as there was a small hospital there run by the resident priest and several nuns.

The U.N.C.L.E. had been contacted by Sister Marie Boucher by way of the Honolulu field office; she was a distant relation to Alexander Waverly and knew she could get help from him.

The priest and the other nuns at the mission had mysteriously disappeared and she was afraid she was next. Many of the villagers were beginning to go missing as well but only the males.

”Do not go there,” the old woman told Illya in English. There is but a place of .. _.de souffrance. Le mal y habite.”_ She switched back to French.

“More suffering than you are experiencing here?”Illya asked. He didn’t question her saying evil lived there.

_“Oui monsieur.”_

“Is that where your men are?” Napoleon suddenly asked.

Again she nodded.

 _“Où est Sœur Marie??”_ Napoleon asked where Sister Marie was.

 _“Je ne sais pas. She is missing too. Perhaps she is dead. Ton accent est terrible, monsieur,”_ she spoke to Napoleon rather candidly.

Illya held back a chuckle upon hearing that.

“Not a word,” Napoleon stuck a finger in his partner’s face.

“I was not planning to say anything. The woman said it for me,” the Russian cracked a half smile. "She is right, your accent is terrible."

The old one retreated, disappearing into her hut.

It was her refuge but the simple structure appeared far from safe. It was in a state of disrepair and if a strong wind blew, it would most likely collapse.

Napoleon and Illya flashed each other a look of concern. The priest and nuns all missing, maybe dead, the male population missing or inside the mountain. For what purpose, what was going on there?

There was nothing for it but to go to the mountain and investigate.

After a bit of a trek the agents found themselves at a well hidden entrance to a cave at the base of the mountain. There was no one outside, no guards, no sign of activity ...nothing.

That included the surrounding area as it was oddly quiet, no bird calls or any of the sounds one would associate with a tropical island.

“After you,” Illya gestured as he drew his gun and a small flashlight from his pocket. Solo did the same and together they ventured inside.

They’d gone a fair distance when they finally heard something.

 ** _“Chink-chink-chink,-chink-chink-chink,_** ” It was rapid, like a metallic tapping.

As the agents moved forward the sound grew louder; turning off off their flashlights, they entered a large cavern lit by burning torches.

The missing men and boys were there, disheveled and looking starved; they were shackled together by a long heavy chain as they tapped away against the walls with small hammers.

A young boy called out, holding up something in his fingers and out of the shadows a person dressed in a dark cowled cape came forward and snatched it from him.

The child was handed a bit of bread as an apparent reward.

 _“Find more of these and you will eat better,_ ” a deep, guttural voice spoke in French from beneath the cowl.

 _“What about our families...who is feeding them?_ ” One of the men called out.

The caped figure moved quickly, smashing the head of the man who dared to speak against the wall.

The wretched soul collapsed to the cave floor. No one attempted to help him as he lay there; it was obvious he was dead.

The shadowy figure disappeared back into the darkness. Not knowing if he were still there or not, Solo and Kuryakin daren’t make their presence known, not just yet.

They stuck to the shadows as well until they came to another opening off the main cavern leading to a tunnel. It had to have been where the caped man went. It was dimly lit, and as they crept forward there was a brighter light at the end of the tunnel.

They moved forward, careful to make no noise with their shoes against the stone floor. There inside another smaller cavern sat the cowled figure.

He held up a white stone, rotating it in front of a candle sitting on the table in front of him.

“ _Parfait_...perfect,” he said in French.

Napoleon was the first to reveal himself, aiming his gun at the figure.

_“Who are you and why are you doing this to these people?”_

_“Who are you to trespass here?”_ The cowled figure stood.

Removing his robe, he revealed a naked and quite muscled upper torso. It was  was covered in dark tattoos, what Illya recognized instantly as a Polynesian design representing shark’s teeth. His hair was black as a raven’s, long and straight but his face, it wasn’t what they expected at all. Actually it was his mouth...his teeth were sharpened, making them resemble a shark’s mouth.

It brought to mind _Saveasi'uleo,_ the Polynesian god who ruled over the subterranean land of the dead, called _Pulotu,_ which was the equivalent of Hades. The entrance to _Saveasi'uleo_ realm was through a cave. Various demons patrolled the path to _Pulotu_ for _Saveasi'uleo_ and would seize any mortals daring to venture along that path while still alive.   

 _Saveasi'uleo_ had the head, arms and torso of a human but the rest of his body was that of a large eel. He had a brother named _Salevao_ who was the god of minerals found deep in the earth.

There were two things wrong with this picture though as the agents weren’t confronted by any so-called demons while wandering through the caverns, and the lower half of the tattooed man’s body was definitely human, and not an eel.

Whoever he was, he was no Polynesian god.

He raised his hand and in it was an automatic pistol resembling a Luger, similar to the UNCLE Special.

“Drop the weapons you two.”

Solo and Kuryakin glanced at each other, preparing to rush him. There was the risk one of them could be shot, but they too were armed...maybe they’d beat him to the punch.

The man put his fingers to his lips and gave a sharp whistle. Out of the darkness shadowy figures like wisps of black smoke appeared in the blink of an eye and surrounded them.

It was if the agents were caught in a dense suffocating fog. As they struggled to breathe both men dropped their guns just before they collapsed to the cave floor with two dull thuds.

When he awoke Napoleon found himself shackled along with the missing men and boys. The others were crouched, huddled against the cave wall with their heads bowed and arms wrapped around their legs.

There was no sign of Kuryakin.

“ _Who are you?_ ” One of the men whispered.

 _“We...I’m from the U.N.C…_ ”Napoleon stopped himself, figuring they probably hadn’t heard of UNCLE. _“Umm sort of police and my partner and I are here because Sister Marie Boucher contacted our boss.”_

 _“Ahhh, the Sister was the last one to be taken. She knew_.”

_“Knew what?”_

_“That it was not Salevao who had taken us_. _The one in the cowl pretends he is Salevao. Sadly most of the villagers believe he is who he claims to be he, but if he were a true god he would not need us to dig up his stones for him.”_

 _“What kind of stones?_ ” Solo asked.

_“Diamonds monsieur.”_

“ _Do you know where Sister Marie and the other nuns are?”_

“ _Je suis désolé. Ils sont morts. Père Alphonse aussi,_ ” another one of the men answered.

Apparently the priest and all the nuns were dead...

“All right you dogs get up!” A voice echoed around them. A dark figure approached, snapping a bullwhip, cracking the air with it.

“Here you,” he tossed a small silver hammer to Solo.

“And what am supposed to do with this?”.

“You’ll see. Do as the others do. If you find a white stone in the rock you will be rewarded with food. Find nothing and you eat nothing.”

He was led along with the others to a cavern, different from the first one they’d encountered when he and Illya entered the mountain.

There they were deposited, no guards as the ends of the long chains were anchored into the rock.

As soon as their shadowy escort left Napoleon fiddled with the heel on one of his shoes; removing it, he drew out a small piece of grey putty...C-4 explosive to be precise. Hidden in the cuff of his pant leg was a fuse that he removed like a stray piece of thread.

The captive islanders stopped, staring at what Napoleon was doing.

 _“Keep hammering_ ,” Solo whispered.

The men and boys said nothing and instantly went back to work.

 _“_ **_Chink-chink-chink,-chink-chink-chink.”_ **

Solo attached the putty to one of the links in the chain, and embedding the fuse he then waited.  It ignited on its own and burned into the C-4 setting off a small explosion with a puff of white smoke.

The chain link was severed and quietly it was pulled through all the shackles; they were all free, but Napoleon suddenly realized he had no idea where they were.

 _“Do you know which way is out?_ ” He whispered.

 _“This way monsieur,”_ one of the little boys pointed.

They all followed him, lining up in single file. Moving tip toe and praying they made no noise.

Once exiting the cave entrance the bright sunlight temporarily blinded them. It was a bit of shock for the islanders who hadn’t seen daylight in some time.

“ _Shield your eyes,_ ” Napoleon said.

There was a sudden rumble and at first they thought it was thunder but then the ground began to shake.

Above their heads the volcano was suddenly coming to life.

 _“Run,_ ” Solo hissed. _“Head to the village, gather your families and go to the beach._

He helped the people escape as everything shook around them. Palm trees tumbled and the huts in the village crumbled, falling apart like matchsticks.

Napoleon pulled his communicator pen; luckily it hadn’t been confiscated as their captors had no idea he was from the U.N.C.L.E.

“Open channel D- Nautilus!” He shouted into the microphone as he quickly assembled the device.

“Submarine Nautilus here Mister Solo. Are you ready to return?”

“We need an emergency extraction now! Send in rafts. We have to evacuate the island! Approximately sixty people.”

“Roger that Mister Solo,” the radioman responded.

“Open channel F! Kuryakin.” There was only static. He tried again and again, but without success. There was nothing Napoleon  could do at the moment to find his partner as the villagers needed his help, and fast.

Solo quickly scooped up a couple of small children, tucking them under his arms, while staying near to an elderly couple as they clung to each other, terrified at what was happening to their island.

As they reached the beach the mountain blew its top, spewing lava down to the sea.

The were positioned far enough away along shore line to protect themselves from the onslaught of the volcano...for now.

 

 

It was there the submarine surfaced, it had been the way the agents had arrived...well that and a dinghy.

Rafts were sent out, evacuating everyone, though there was no sign of the tattooed man and his cronies. Napoleon waited, hoping Illya would appear and when the Russian didn’t arrive he decided to go back for him.

The rivers of lava, and lava bombs drove him back, preventing him from passing; though he refused to give up hope his partner was still alive.

He boarded the last dinghy and headed to the Nautilus.

It was a tight fit but they managed to get everyone into the sub. Solo and some of the men remained top side as they watched the destruction of _Motu_ island.

The sub wouldn’t be able to submerge to make the nearly 800 mile journey to a safe haven on one of the many islands that made up Fiji; there were too many passengers which necessitated some of them remain topside.

Alexander Waverly after receiving Solo’s report, contacted the U.S. Navy and there was a U.S. destroyer in the area that could meet the submarine and transfer the passengers.

The villagers had lost everything, but U.N.C.L.E. would see to it they were given a helping hand to start over; that Alexander Waverly vowed in honor of Sister Marie and the other nuns who had perished along with the priest Father Alphonse.

 _“The gods are angered,_ ” a white haired village elder said to Napoleon.

 _“Who might they be?_ ” Solo knew of Salevao, but that was about it.

The American was intrigued and listened while watching the plume of smoke and ash rise in the distance. As the lava reached the sea there was an immense hissing sound as steam shot high into the air.

It was quite spectacular to witness and Napoleon was feeling a sense of relief they’d been able to escape...except for Illya. All he could do was think of his partner, who was most likely dead.

 _“Ti'iti'i the god of fire and Mafui'e_ _the earthquake god...they are angry with Salevao for violating La’akea, the goddess of the volcano,”_ the old man said.

“ _Salevao_ the god of minerals?”

 _“Yes, it was he who imprisoned us; it was his demons who whipped us into submission and who murdered the sisters and the priest,_ ” the man answered.

Solo couldn’t believe that as _Salevao_ had used a gun on he and Illya in the cavern. It had to have been some fool who’d convinced most of the villagers he was some sort of god.

No doubt the bastard, greedy for diamonds, managed it through the use of smoke and mirrors and some specialized knockout gas.

 _“And what do you think will happen to this Salevao?”_ Napoleon asked.

_“He is a god and the other gods are dealing with him for what he did to us. I think they sent you to help us.”_

_“Don’t you not believe in the Christian God?_ ” Napoleon asked.

_“We honor Him, but we honor the old ways as well. Our gods are powerful and vengeful when it becomes necessary. The Christian god is one of peace."_

Napoleon couldn’t believe that about the pagan gods course, but with the things he’d seen over the years…

As they gazed out over the water they saw dozens of shark fins appear, surrounding the submarine; it was as if they were preparing to escort the vessel.

 _“_ _Ka-moho-aliʻi  has granted us his favor,_ ” the old man smiled. _“The shark god, he sends them to guide us to our new home.”_

Napoleon looked to the shore line again and couldn’t believe his eyes; there was a half naked blond waving his arms like a wild man.

A dinghy was quickly sent and brought Illya onboard the sub. He was dressed in a bright turquoise floral cloth wrapped around his waist; his chest, shoulders and biceps we tattooed with Polynesian symbols. Emblazoned across his chest was a stylized manta ray, and the swirls on his shoulders and biceps looked the the waves of the ocean.

“Nice dress, and the tattoos are an interesting look for you,” Napoleon snickered. He was indeed relieved his friend was alive and well.”

“It is not a dress, it is a sarong and these are not tattoos, they were painted on my skin so they are not permanent.”

“So why the getup and the body art?”

“I am not quite sure but that word _Pasikole_ the villagers used when they saw me was apparently a name. Two deities who were sisters fell in love with a mortal named _Pasikole_ , the only Polynesian man with blond hair. He loved his mortal wife and remained faithful to her. Continually rejecting the sister’s advances throughout his life; he still remained faithful to his wife even in death and refused the goddesses’ advances again, preferring to wait for his wife’s arrival after her own eventual death.”

“The sisters named _Fainga’a_ and _Si’si_ later went on to marry the monster-slaying god _Ti’i-Ti’i,_ the Samoan version of the Hawaiian god _Maui._ _Pasikole_ was later worshipped after his death as the god of husbandly fidelity.  I can only presume the man masquerading as _Salevao_ thought he could use my presence as _Pasikole_ to his advantage in order to force the female villagers into the cave to continue the search for diamonds.”

“And you learned all this how?”

Illya beckoned his partner to move away from the others on deck, seeking privacy.

“ _Salevao_ or whatever his true name is told me of the myth. He seemed rather pleased with himself and his plan; his bragging was not unlike what THRUSH does with their own plans.”

“You think he was one of our not so fine feathered friends?”

The Russian shrugged. “The methods used fit their _modus operandi_ but since our tattooed friend and his men most likely did not make it off the island, we will never know unless there is something said on THRUSH channels. They never made it out of the caves as far as I know.”

“How did you get out _tovarisch_?”

“It was the earthquake. It startled my guard enough that I was able to overpower him, though it took me a while to find my way to the outside. I feared I would not make it as the cavern and tunnel walls were falling down around me.”

“And you don’t think our bad guys got out?”

“Not unless there was another exit as the cave entrance we found collapsed as the volcano blew.”

“I have to say, this whole god thing is pretty crazy,” Napoleon said.

For once Kuryakin said nothing in reply.

“Here, I think this will help the people of Motu build their new home.”

Illya untied a bit cloth revealing a large handful of rough, uncut diamonds.

Napoleon gave a whistle as he eyed them.”You dirty dog. I’m not even going to ask where you got them.”

 

******

 

On the far side of the island a second submarine surfaced and a yellow rubber dinghy with the emblem of a bird in flight emblazoned on its side was sent ashore.

Once the passengers were on board it, they slowly rowed their way way back towards their vessel.

The tattooed man sat there, removing his black wig and wiped the tattoos from his face with a damp towel. Spitting the false teeth out into the palm of his hand, he tossed them overboard.

He patted with satisfaction, a bulging black velvet bag tied to his waist.

“Better than nothing,” he mumbled to himself. “Thanks _La’akea.”_ He undid the strings and opened the bag, reaching inside for one of his precious stones.

What he drew out was just that, a stone and not a diamond. He checked again and again until he dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor of the boat. It was nothing but stones!

He let out a howl of anguish and just as he did there was a bump against the small boat, then another. The menbegan to panic as they found themselves surrounded by dozens of black tip Mako sharks.

The creatures circled, bumping again and again until they disappeared as quickly as they’d appeared.

In their place a monstrous great white shark, at least twenty feet long, came out of nowhere.

Without warning the shark opened its jagged maw and bit into the side of the flimsy raft, ripping it to shreds.

The men went flying into the water and the feeding frenzy began as the Makos returned. The water turned red with t blood as one by one the once tattooed man and his cronies disappeared beneath the surface as if they’d never existed.

 _Ka-moho-aliʻi_ was satisfied as were the other gods for what had been done to the people of _Motu_ and for the violation of their beautiful _La’akea_ by the false _Salevao._

 _Saveasi'uleo_ and his brother, the true _Salevao,_ would have a special place of torment in _Pulotu_ for these strange _‘bird’_ men...

 

 

 


End file.
